#marthus

The Moon wasn’t up that night, leaving the sky clear for the millions of tiny stars. The light of them reflected from the roof tiles, closed windows, and cobblestones polished bright by many shoes over time. The air was warm, even the weakest little breeze seemed to be missing. The quiet streets were dark, windows only sparsely lit. The city was sleeping. Well, not exactly.

Someone was running on top of the houses, causing surprisingly little noise while jumping from one rooftop to another, only stopping to look around. Searching for something.

It all began when some burglars, who had been causing a lot of trouble recently to shopkeepers, homeowners, and basically anyone on the street at night with anything valuable, happened to choose the wrong house to attack. A few seconds after they broke the door, a young man, armed with a sword and the mood of someone who was quite angry at being woken up at the middle of the night rushed down the stairs, and proved to be quite the fighter. The attackers escaped with all valuables they could find, including something very, very important that one of them managed to grab from the man’s hands. He tried to run after them, but the dark streets were good hiding places, and they slipped away.

Marthus stopped again, sighing. “Can’t I just have one calm night?” he muttered to himself. Someone stealing the Sigils - well, that’s pretty much the worst thing that could happen.

He glanced around, surveying for what must have been the twentieth time for the thieves. Still nothing. But suddenly…a noise from behind. The crack of a roof tile, as if- as if someone standing there took a step towards him.

Fight instincts kicked in, and in the blink of an eye, Marthus turned around, unsheathing his sword, and holding it forward, a few inches from the possible attacker’s throat.

“WHO IS-“ He stopped in the middle of the question as he saw who stood there. A girl, seemed to be younger than him. Her hair was in a long, dyed braid over her shoulder, and a pair of round goggles covered her eyes. Hands up in the air, trembling, and she had the expression of someone whose life just flashed before their eyes.

“Whoah! I’m… sorry, didn’t mean to… uh… Evening!” she stuttered “Don’t kill me please?”

Marthus raised an eyebrow in confusion. That was basically the last thing he expected to see behind him. “Aaand… who might you be?” he asked, lowering the sword.

“Carlene Atherton, adventurer at nighttime, really tired teenager during daytime, at your service!” she said, pushing her goggles up to her forehead, revealing a pair of grey eyes. “Wait a second… I think I know you! Yeah, definitely, I’ve seen you in VMA before. Your name is… uh…” she snapped her fingers a few times, with a focused face, trying to remember, “…Matthias?”

“…close enough. Marthus is fine as well. What exactly are you doing up here, at this time?”

“Following you” Cary inhaled sharply, before letting it out, defeated. “…god damn it, I was thinking of too many excuses at once” she said, smacking herself in the forehead,  ”Look, I was up to see if anything happens in the streets, I saw you running about up here with a sword… who wouldn’t start following you?”

“Wait, you were up here watching the streets? You didn’t happen to see three guys running, possibly from that direction, did you?”

“I did, actually, that way. Why?”

“They stole something important from me, that was a, uh… gift from a friend.” Marthus scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed to admit he had lost the Sigils.

“Ooo, this sounds exactly why I like to stay up here at night!” she said, almost clapping in excitement, “I’ll come along!”

“No, it’s dangerous, you stay here, and-” Marthus was abruptly cut off by his new acquaintance taking a step towards the edge of the roof.

She gave a smirk, putting her goggles back on. “Try and stop me.” Her hand delved into a pocket and withdrew a small knife, a slight glitter coruscating off of it from the streetlights below.

Marthus simply held up his sword for her to see with an exasperated expression to match. “I will, if I have to. I’m not having anyone getting hurt over my own problems.”

Cary’s face shifted to a pout, “Awww, c’mon, the one chance I get to have a great adventure, and you just shut me down like that? Thought you were some awesome guy, with your fancy magic and all… At least tell me about that?” She made eye contact, gaze filled with hope.

“You mean this?” The bodyguard summoned a ball of flames shot through with streaks of lightning and dust into his hand. It was surprising that Cary’s jawbone stayed attached to her body. “It’s nothing special, just something that I was born with, something the gift enhances.”

“All the more reason you might need another hand to help you find it…” Cary said, with a hint of suggestion in her voice.

“Alright, alright. Where’d you see them going, again?” Marthus sighed. I don’t want to waste more time arguing, easier to have her tag along.

“Oh, just over there. Saw ‘em going into that warehouse.” Cary gestured to a large structure at the end of the block, a monstrous building with windows shuttered and no evidence of light inside. “Waiiiiiit, are we about to raid a real burglar’s hideout?”

“Yes.”

“Do you do this on the regular?”

“Yes.”

“Cool!”

==O==

They hopscotched from roof to roof, catlike and ever-cautious bodyguard accompanied by his new friend who was practically levitating with excitement. Marthus had sheathed his sword, and Cary her knife, but both were still on edge for any sign of hostility. The goggle-clad adventurer had taken to enquiring about Marthus’ past as they waited for the bodyguard to observe some unknown sign that would signal them to investigate further.

“How many elements can you control?”

“All of them. Except light and shadow, but those are exceptions.”

“Wait wait wait, I knew about shadow magic, that spooky guy in the helmet uses it, but light magic?”

“It’s not natural in this world. Brought in, in a way. No need to worry about it.”

“Wow, though. All seven elements. Did you make your sword?”

“Yeah, forged it in the furnace of an old monastery in the Knota Mountains, where I learned to fight and use my magic.”

“Sooooo, you grew up in the mountains then, right? How’s the weather up there?”

“Clear most days, not many clouds. Cold winters, warm summers. Our stories say there was a time when you could see Great Britain from the peak nearest our village, because of the clear air. Impossible, of course, but it feels like you can see forever, sometimes.” A tinge of nostalgia entered the man’s voice, thoughts of a lost home bubbling to the surface.

“Why don’t you ever go and visit?”

The mood was cut short, a knife-edge memory of pain severing the link between the present, and the pleasant past. “Gone. Brigands razed the place. No one and nothing there now.” A single teardrop began to fall, but was angrily wiped away by a gloved hand.

He could hear Cary’s sadness and apology in her silence. Not her fault, not mine. Just stupid chance. It was quiet for a minute, so much so that when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he nearly leaped from the roof. He turned, and grey eyes met green. He saw a companion in that gaze, and it helped.

“You should go back, see it again, refresh your memories of it. Get a new view on things.”

Marthus nodded and stood, and pointed to the front door and windows of the warehouse with the pommel of his sheathed blade. “We go in through the sides, you left, me right. Do you know how to fight?”

“Eeeeeh, debatable, but I have good aim and reflexes!” Cary supplied.

“That’s all you’ll need to stay alive. If you see a stone pendant engraved with a sword, helmet and armor, get it to me as fast as possible. Once I have it, we’ll wipe the floor with them and leave them for the police. Another pair of eyes should make this quick. Good plan?”

“Yeaaaaah, but what if one of them comes at me? Do I just like… stab him?”

“Just stay alive, I’ll try and handle the fighting.”

==O==

With that, the pair split, moving to the windows on either side of the building. Marthus launched upwards to the sill with a silent blast of air while Cary walked silently across the roof and used a gutter pipe to reach her entry point. A tinkle from the other side of the building signaled for her to jump in. The glass broke easily, and it wasn’t too far of a drop to the floor, and she landed safely. As an afterthought, she brought the goggles down to cover her eyes and readied her knife. Can’t hurt. Two muffled thuds sounded, and then there was a hiss and the room filled with hot steam. What the hell is Marthus doing? Cary was forced to take off the goggles, as they quickly fogged up and just made visibility even worse. And then, out of the fog came a wild-eyed man, lanky haired and still dressed in all black, brandishing a baton with a spike driven through the end.

“Another one of ye devils? Yer not getting our pillage, no way!” With the last syllable, he slashed wildly at Cary, aiming to cut her widthwise across the chest.

Quick reflexes they were, as the adventurer slid under the arc of the crude weapon, and made a kick for the man’s shin. Unfortunately, he was wearing padding underneath, and the blow only served to bring another strike down, the spike sticking in the ground next to Cary’s head, narrowly missing her braid.

“Watch the hair!” she cried, before realizing that her attacker probably didn’t care about what he did to any part of her, as long as it was an injury. Stupid, why did I think that he’d even notice? Aaaaaand here comes another…

Strike after strike, the wild-eyed burglar drove her back, giving no opportunity for parry or riposte. Maybe if I had a longer weapon, but this guy just doesn’t let up! Eventually, Cary was driven into a narrow passage between two wooden crates, and the man stopped pursuing her. A quick glance behind revealed a dead end, and nowhere to run. He’d be on me too fast if I tried to climb out… what now?

“Yer done, girly. Give yerself up, and maybe we can get your big-shot swordsman to stop fighting as well, eh?”

“Nope! I’m pretty happy where I am! Thanks!”

“You little… Damn you!” The spike flashed out and her eyes closed, prepared to meet her maker.

Cary heard a thunk. Was that hitting me and I just don’t feel it yet? Opening her eyelids a crack, it was revealed that the burglar’s makeshift weapon was stuck in the wall, spike embedded deep into split wood. She let out a slight giggle, a bit crazed from the near-death experience, but a laugh nonetheless.

“Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, the signature move of Carlene Atherton, nightmare of criminals everywhere, the ‘Goggle Mark!’” The goggles flashed in an overhead arc, collided with the side of the burglar’s astonished face, near the eye socket, and sent him to the ground, out cold.

“Nice work. I’ll have to bring you along next time. Might have to work on the signature move name though,” The gruff voice of her companion sounded from above, followed by a chuckle at the name. Cary tipped her head back to see Marthus sitting on the edge of a crate, stone pendant dangling from his left hand, and blade in his right.

“Would you have stepped in if I had been about to get hurt?”

“Nah, I had complete faith in you. You did a good job, using the environment to your advantage. Have a good night!” With that, he stood and sheathed his blade in one fluid movement, donned the pendant and was gone in a flash of golden light.

“Wonder if I could see the top of that mountain someday…”

The light blinked back, depositing Marthus on top of the crates again. “Oh by the way, feel free to take any of the knives I have. The bag of loot is on the other side of these crates. Just don’t take anything else. And does tomorrow sound good for that visit to the mountain?”

“How did you…”

“Magic!” And then he was gone again, leaving Cary to sort through the bag. There was a nice steel piece, with a long blade and a simple sheath, adorned with a single amethyst. I’ll take this one, I think.